Full Steam Ahead
by PicturesOfLily47
Summary: Thomas Andrews' daughter boards her father's ship overjoyed to reunite with him after a two-year separation... but ends up finding an old friend as well. T for inTense situations...  :D


**AN: I put this up today because of what day it is - April 14th, 2011... the 99th anniversary of the sinking of Titanic. I thought it would be a good publish date (: RIP Thomas Andrews, a great man and shipbuilder. YOU WON'T BE FORGOTTEN, TOMMY!**

**Disclaimer: Heh heh. I don't own any of the movie characters I shall use, but I do own Jo. So BACK OFF (: jk. **

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

I stared at _Titanic. _That's all I really could do – stare. It truly lived up to its name.

Many people were on deck, but I had eyes for only one: my father, Thomas Andrews.

The ship was all his idea. He built this monstrosity that now held the name _Titanic. _This great hunk of iron had robbed me of my father, and for that, I hated it.

I hated how obscenely large it was, how luxurious it looked. Everything about it, I detested – with a burning passion. My fiery redhead temper only fueled my disgust.

Despite my negative feelings, I was extremely anxious to see my father once again. My heart was beating at the rate of a hummingbird's wings. Daddy's face was a blur in my mind, and his existence was nothing more than a memory. Up until now, I hadn't realized how much I had missed him. Two years was far too long to go without the only close family I had left. My mother had died eleven years before, when I was only five years old.

"Miss Andrews?" The sharp voice of a steward woke me from my reverie. He was thin and had a close clipped mustache.

"Hmmmm?"

"What would you like me to do with your luggage, miss?" Luggage? Oh, yes. The luggage.

"Please take it up to my cabin, if you would," I said, with the best fake smile I could muster. I handed him a few pounds and grabbed my violin. He stared – the violin wasn't exactly the most "proper" (whatever the hell _that's _supposed to mean) instrument for a lady to play. "And one more thing. Don't call me 'Miss Andrews'. It's Johanna."

The steward smiled. "Of course, miss." And he was off.

I took a deep breath. Well, as deep a breath as I could get with the damn corset laced so tight around my waist. Being a lady was so… irritating!

The crowd around the ship was thick. Most were gathered to see _Titanic _off, but a select few were going through inspection.

A car pulled up, and a girl about my age got out. Her hair was about as red as mine, and the lucky thing didn't have any freckles. She looked about as miserable as I felt, and I had a strange rush of affection for her.

The noise was unbelievable. I would be happy when I could just sit down with _A Tale of Two Cities _and read in peace. Shouts rang out everywhere:

"OI!"

"Hey, you! Get away from there!"

My head was swimming with the confusion of it all. I was extremely overwhelmed. I put a gloved hand to my throbbing forehead and closed my eyes, trying to lessen the pain.

I walked up the gangplank to get on the ship. Another steward was waiting there for me. "Welcome to _Titanic, _Miss Andrews," he said, with about the cheesiest smile I had ever seen – which was saying something, because I had seen too many to count. It seemed as if every man had one of his own. I could only think of one exception, and that was Dad. I didn't bother to ask how he knew my name. I didn't have to.

As I stared at the interior of _Titanic, _my jaw dropped to the floor. It was, indeed, luxurious. Even Daddy's countless letters didn't do it justice – and they were descriptive, I assure you. He was an overachiever, my dad. Always going the extra mile, no matter what it was he was asked to do.

I opened the door to the cabin. It had taken me a while to find it. Stupid ship. The great hulk was too large for my taste. Then again, why was I complaining? Hadn't I been longing for Daddy to summon me from that wretched school for the last two years? I snickered. I had certainly gotten in trouble enough, hoping to be expelled so that Daddy would come and retrieve me. If I had to board on this miserable hunk of iron to see my father, then that's what I would do.

The cabin that I was to share with Daddy was very elegant. The furniture was of deep red velvet, and everything else was simply too grand for words. While I still hated _Titanic, _it was enough to impress me. The smell of fresh paint still radiated from the walls. I dropped my violin case by the door and collapsed on the nearby couch…

"Miss!"

"Mmmmmph?"

A stewardess was shaking me awake. Had I really fallen asleep? "Miss, would you like to come out to the boat deck? _Titanic _is about to set sail."

About to set sail? Then I couldn't have been sleeping for long. "Yes… what is your name?" I said, blinking.

"It's Emily," she replied, sporting a sweet, innocent grin. The poor girl couldn't have been more than fourteen. "Your father has talked of nothing but you these past few days. He's so excited to see you, Miss Andrews."

"Don't… _call _me that," I said. Why must everyone insist on calling me that? Would I have to rebuke every person on board this wretched boat? "Johanna. Or Jo. Never Miss Andrews."

Emily's smile faltered, torn between her training and my instructions. "As you wish, Miss Jo," she said. Smart girl. I never would have thought to meet in the middle, myself.

I smoothed down my skirts and ambled over to the large mirror. As usual, my reflection was not to my satisfaction. "I'm so nervous," I worried aloud, under my breath. "What if I'm a disappointment to him?"

"Miss Jo," said Emily, appearing behind me. "The way Mr. Andrews rambles on about you, I believe that just your being here will please him. I don't mean to say that I know him better than you do, but I can just tell that he loves you more than he can ever put into words."

I turned around to look into Emily's eyes, a bit taken aback. They were the same deep blue as the ocean, and the shape of giant saucers.

"Forgive me, Miss," said Emily with a quick courtesy. She turned her gaze to the floor. "I didn't mean to be forward."

"No." I knelt down to her level and lifted her head. "You're right. I was being terribly naïve. How could I say such a thing?"

How could I? But still, the fear that I may dissatisfy my father was looming in the back of my head, neglected, but still there.


End file.
